


gold and green and glowing

by twenty_committee



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Minecraft, Pining, Realistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26966638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twenty_committee/pseuds/twenty_committee
Summary: After the dragon is gone, they have time for things like this. After the dragon, they should be happy and content and free, but George is so, so in love and he thinks it's going to kill him before Dream ever gets to it.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 347





	gold and green and glowing

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the idea to the animation by minus_sass on YT. Please do not push views on relationships onto other people. Be respectful.
> 
> Posted from a side account.

Dream was the one who proposed it, _just to keep sharp_. A pretend hunt. George didn't see the point, seeing as there's nothing in the world that Dream couldn't already handle. The zombies and skeletons were practically play to him. He agreed anyways, just to burn off some energy. Just to stretch their legs between bouts of improving their house. He agreed because Dream asked, and because in the gold summer sun he shone.

George thinks of that and looks at Dream sleeping in the bed beside his. His hair is silvery by moonlight, and his mouth is a little open, and his hand is hanging out of the side of his blankets, onto George's bed. His face is peaceful when he's asleep. 

This is a strange transcendent time. Sometimes George knows he falls asleep by the fire and Dream carries him to bed, his last words always lost to the gold glow and the drifting sleep. Here, George is the one awake and standing against the night. 

His chest feels tight. It's normal. All of it is _normal;_ living together and eating early to watch the sunrise and sparring in the backyard. Watching Dream smile as he builds up their house. Thinking about him at night. This twist of pain and longing. 

Normal. It's all normal now, worn smooth like riverbed rocks. George will live with it. He has to. 

He turns away and pulls the blankets over his head and listens to Dream's soft breathing. His eyes are green, even if George can't see it. He can see enough, like the way the sunlight hits them and makes them glow. Sometimes he wonders if Dream knows what he's feeling, this aching storm surge like waves.

***

It’s strange that someone so tall can move so quietly and hide so well, but George only sees him once he’s jumped out. His mask is a little crooked, and he’s smiling so wide that George’s chest hurts a little even though he raises his sword. 

‘Oh, _George!'_ he sings, swishing his glittering axe from side to side. George can't help but stare- at his smile, at his deft hands, at his broad chest that he's spent countless nights sleeping close to. His diamond chestplate is slightly undone around the shoulders and George sees _muscle_ , velvet with sweat, shifting like the lithe ocelots. 

‘Well, that answers the question of where you are,’ he says, trying to keep his voice steady, raising his shield, searching for an escape route. The ravine behind him that he was intending to mine is now a death trap. 

It would be better if Dream wasn’t so casual about it. If he didn’t walk closer with that damned _half undone chestplate_ that’s slipping down to give a glimpse of collarbone, axe making blue gauzy lines in the air. 

‘There’s nowhere to run, George!’ he exclaims. He doesn’t even have his shield out, the bastard. 

His foot crunches on the lip of the ravine and he stops, adrenaline trapping his breath in his throat. Dream gets closer until they’re almost touching. These times more than any is George aware of the height difference, that he’s eye level with Dream’s mouth. He's flushed with the exertion of their pretend hunt, _just to keep sharp_ \- damn him, damn how he's obviously enjoying this, with how his teeth glint from a barely hidden smile. He looks so _alive_. George's heart stutters.

‘Watch your step,’ Dream teases. 

‘You know your chestplate is…’ George gestures a little with his sword, his own mouth dry. Dream is too close to swing at properly, and he’s not confident that he won’t fall if he tries. 

Dream just laughs. His axe is gripped loosely in one hand, and the other lightly rests on George’s shield, pulling it down just enough to meet his eyes. He smells like sweat and fire and pine. He smells like Dream. George wants to step right into his arms. 

‘I thought you might appreciate the chance to stab me a little easier this time.’

‘I do. How about you back up so I can take it?’

‘No, no, Georgie.’ He waves his finger in his face. ‘You only get the chance if you catch _me_ , not the other way around. Now how about you put down your shield?’

‘No, no, Dream,’ he mimics, clutching the shield tighter in sweaty hands. ‘You put down your axe first.’

Dream twirls it slowly and shakes his head. He’s smiling again. His lower lip is full. George drags his teeth along his own, and a flush of heat steals through him when Dream’s head jerks down a little. It’s hard to see where he’s looking with the mask on, and this feels like a victory in every way. 

At least, it feels that way until Dream sighs and raises his axe. 

‘If you won’t put it down, I’m gonna have to break it,’ he says, and George takes an involuntary step backwards-

Right off the edge of the ravine. 

Dream _screams,_ an anguished, terrible noise. George is only aware of the pain in it for a moment, where his body is weightless and he sees Dream, hand stretched out towards him, mouth twisted open in a howl. 

The water hits him like the blunt side of a diamond axe, and it all goes dark. 

When he comes to, Dream is kneeling over him, soaked, hands cupping George’s face. His mask is thrown to the side with his axe and George can see his beautiful face in the shadows of the ravine, his eyes glittering wet. The lava nearby makes golden shadows in the dip of his throat, draws halos around his wheat-bright hair.

He coughs, lungs stinging, and spits out some water. His body hurts. His heart hurts more. He can’t find his glasses. 

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen,’ Dream says, eyes crinkled with concern. ‘I thought- I really did think you were going to stab me, or block.’

‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’ George coughs again, and Dream’s hands are on him once more, running against his thrumming chest, soothing him. They’re warm, even though they’re wet. His hair is dripping and dark. George smiles despite himself. ‘Did you jump in to get me, you idiot?’

‘There’s no fun in letting the water try to kill you instead of me.’ Dream’s eyes are so beautifully expressive, and his hands are gentle. He hurts. He hurts. ‘Are you ready to lose?’

‘What happens if I say no?’

‘I’ll win by forfeit,’ he says promptly, and George laughs. His sword and shield are nearby, thoughtfully hauled out of the water by Dream. 

‘You could have left those at the bottom of the pool and gotten me right now,’ he teases. Dream laughs and picks up his mask, but not his axe. He holds out his hand, smiling down at him. 

‘Ready?’

It’ll take a moment for him to put on his mask again, George knows, and then he’ll still have to get his axe ready. He can get to his sword faster and get a good hit on the space left exposed by that stupid chestplate. 

‘Ready,’ he agrees, and the moment his fingers graze Dream’s, they’re trapped in a crushing grip. Dream throws his mask aside and snatches up his diamond axe in a single fluid motion, his smile widening until George can see all of his teeth, jubilant and terrifying and wonderful. 

He barely manages to pull his hand away and grab his shield and block. Dream swings the axe down and it makes a solid _crunch_ into the wood. George can barely keep the shield up with two hands against the force of the axe, there’s no way he’ll be able to grab his sword. But if he doesn’t, his shield is going to break. 

Some part of him wants this to be over already, so they can go home and sit by the fire and eat side by side, hands touching easy, easy across the table. But he can't. They're masters of this world and yet there are still _rules_ , unspoken, to keep them at a careful distance.

When Dream raises the axe again, George lunges for his sword. His wild swing catches the axe and Dream stumbles back. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Dream’s mouth still spread into that broad grin. He tilts his head. George gasps for breath. _Do you know what I feel for you? Do you know how much I want you?_

‘You’ve got a little bit of-’ He gestures to his own face and George hastily wipes at his bleeding nose where the butt of his own sword hit during the swing. He’s so focused on getting it off and the metallic smell that he doesn’t notice when Dream lunges, and his axe swings down like Fate, and George’s shield shatters. 

He scrambles backwards, craning his neck to stare up at Dream. His mouth is dry. He looks like an avenging angel, axe held out, eyes blazing with the golden lava light and his own power. His smile makes a keen claw at George’s throat. He wants him. 

Oh, he wants him, this warrior backlit by gold, standing with his hair wild, his mask thrown aside. He wants to be home and in their beds side by side, bodies in their own perfect symmetry. Their mock hunts are fun, and they burn off this strange tension, but that’s not working anymore because George wants to touch the calloused palm of his hand and curl fingers in his damp blond hair and kiss him, kiss him until they’re both breathless all over again. He wants to kiss the collarbone showing through his crooked chestplate. He wants Dream so, so much. 

‘Any last words, Georgie?’ he asks, grinning. His shirt, beneath the armour, is stretched across his chest and the hard lines of his body. 

‘Yeah,’ George says, instead of _I love you_ or _let me kiss you_. ‘Watch your step.’

He kicks at Dream’s foot and he stumbles backwards, landing hard on his back. George wants to run to him and embrace him and make sure he’s okay, but he grabs his sword and glasses instead, and stands over the sprawled body. 

Dream lays there, lax and beautiful. His axe has fallen out of his hand. 

‘That was good,’ he says softly. His lips turn up in that secret smile, the one George only sees when they’re far away and alone, when they’re found home in each other. He spreads his arms, baring the gap in his chestplate. ‘Good job, George. Go ahead.’

He should be able to do it. He’s disarmed, and all he has to do now is just a little nick, that’s all their rules need. Dream has done it before- just the barest pressure of an axe on his shoulder, drawing a droplet of blood, no more. Dream hissed when it bit through, like it was him getting cut instead. At home, he’d bandaged the tiny wound and George had fallen asleep with him by the fire. Dream’s warm body against his, George’s head tucked into the crook of his shoulder where he smells like pine and smoke. 

George can't.

‘I won,’ he says, voice cracking. Dream shakes his head. 

‘It’s not going to hurt, George. Let me see you win.’ He tilts his head at the gap. ‘I even left you a nice space for it and you’re not taking it? You’re telling me I went through wearing crooked armour this whole time for nothing?’

‘Fine. Truce.’ George knows it’s stupid but he _hurts_ with love and he wants to have Dream in his arms, and he wants to kiss and _lick_ that goddamn place where his skin shows through the chestplate, and he wants to throw away his sword and lean down and kiss Dream until they’re both panting. He wants so much it’s going to kill him. 

Dream tilts his head and chuckles. 

‘Fine. Help me up?’ He opens his arms and of course George holds his hands out, of course he lets Dream’s familiar, steady hands trace up his shaking forearms, holding tight-

And Dream pulls him right back down. George shrieks. Their bodies are flush, one of Dream’s arms holding firm around his back, one at his shoulder. He can feel everything. 

‘Dream!’ his voice cracks all over again. He’s pretty sure Dream can _feel_ his heart pounding. Dream laughs his high wheezing laugh, and George’s head falls forward to rest where his shoulder meets his neck. He smells like firewood smoke. Oh, _oh_ God, he wants. He wants. 

‘Come on, just let me congratulate you.’ Dream shifts beneath him. George can feel the rise and fall of his chest. He doesn’t think about anything beneath that. 

‘Congratulate?’ he manages. 

‘For winning.’ His hand brushes George’s cheek, and then pulls at his lower lip. His eyes are so deep, like water lit by firelight, crinkling with a soft smile. His voice drops, rumbling deep and suddenly serious. ‘You’re beautiful.’

Dream’s eyes can be terrifying. George has seen them gleaming from the darkness, charging out with a shrieking laugh to win the manhunt. He’s seen them blazing with determination against the dragon. Right now, they terrify him with the honesty there. 

They’ve kissed before. Sometimes George lays awake in his bed beside his best friend and thinks about the moment after the dragon died, where Dream threw aside his sword and lunged for George with wild eyes. How his own battle-weary arms let his weapons fall and opened to accept him. He remembers exactly how Dream tasted, how that moment lasted forever and not long enough, pressed into the porous end stone with Dream kissing him like a drowning man needing air. _George, we did it, we did it._

_George, I love you._

He can't remember if that's something Dream really said, in the gasping darkness of the end, or if George just wished he did.

He thinks about all of that, with Dream’s thumb tracing his mouth. They don’t need words to say what they want, not anymore. Not after this long. 

Dream leans up and George bends to meet him, kissing back as hard as he can, pushing closer to him, starving for his warmth, for him, all of him. Dream is crooning something soft and satisfied. 

A cold, sharp blade presses at the back of his neck and George freezes. Beneath him, Dream’s beautiful mouth, all kiss-swollen, spreads wide. 

‘ _Never_ let your guard down, Georgie. If you weren’t going to win, I was.’ One arm tightens around his back, holding him prone. George’s head is still all fuzzy from the kisses, but something painful twists deep into his heart. 

‘You could have just done this while you had me before,’ he says. That little pain knots and blooms. ‘On the top of the ridge! Or when you broke my shield! Or right before you- you _kissed_ me!’

‘George?’ Dream sounds confused, and a little hurt, but George doesn’t care. 

‘Don’t _do_ that, Dream! I don’t care if you know I love you, that I want you, but you don’t have to fucking- _taunt_ me with it!’

‘George!’ Dream cups his face with both hands. His axe is gone again. 

George knows his eyes like nothing else. He’s seen them bright and sorrowful and blank, he’s seen them half-asleep and crinkled with laughter. Glowing gold. He’s never seen them like this, with a strange and endlessly longing look to them. 

‘George, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I thought you’d be fine with it.’

‘With mocking the fact that I love you?’ George spits. ‘By _using_ that like it’s just another tool for you to win over me?’

‘No, it’s not like that, I promise.’ Dream’s thumb brushes over his cheek, slow and soft. George still wants to fall into him. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. George, I want to kiss you again. I wanted to this whole time, so much. And at home, too, I want to kiss you, I want to sleep next to you in bed…’ His eyes flutter and he looks away. Pink spots bloom high in his cheeks. ‘I thought maybe you’d want it too. I didn't think.'

The anger slips from George’s grasp like fine sand. He can’t hate him, Dream, his best friend, his closest ally against this hostile world. Dream, who’s fought beside him against everything the universe can throw at them, who George wants even now. Dream, who feels like home and wheezes when he laughs and kisses George like he’s never wanted to be anywhere else. Dream, who he loves. Dream, who loves him back against all odds, lying here beautiful in the golden glow of the lava.

‘I do want it,’ he says, leaning down again. Dream’s eyelashes flutter, making feathery shadows on his skin. His voice drops, quiet and hoarse. ‘I want you, Dream. But I don't want it like this.'

Dream gazes up at him. ‘No more manhunt right now,’ he says quietly. His hands twist in George’s hair and despite himself he leans into the touch. Dream chuckles faintly, barely more than a breath. Time is quiet and slow as silk. 'Just us.'

Just them. George falls back into him like a drowning man. Dream’s talking into their kiss again, but all George can catch of it is _beautiful_ and his name, over and over. 

They're both still wet from the pool. Part of George's face and hand is smeared in his own blood. They’re laying on the cold stone floor of a ravine with armour on, kissing by the light of the lava, and George has never felt so good. Dream tastes like home. When he _finally_ gets his mouth on the space in that goddamn chestplate, Dream groans and his fingers knot tighter in his hair.

'I got you,' George murmurs, high off the pinesmoke scent of his skin.

'You have me,' Dream agrees, voice crooning deeper, pulling him further down.

His eyes are green, George knows, even if he can't see it. Green like deep water, and he's willing to drown in it, wrap himself up in Dream and live in this moment of armor clattering and chapped lips against his and heat and creation in their hands. Everything in the universe is wonderfully, perfectly sliding into place, here in the groan George draws out of him when he bites that swollen lower lip.

Dream gets his teeth into his collarbone and _bites_ back, and when George gasps and shivers he laughs, wild and adoring. He licks the drop of blood off his teeth. 

‘So I won, right? Since I got first blood?’

‘Shut up and kiss me again,’ George says, and Dream obliges, and George is alive, alive, glowing with it.

That night, George climbs into Dream’s bed and closes his eyes to firelight and the marks on Dream’s neck. He feels only the careful hands checking the bite, and Dream’s kisses as they fall asleep. 

'I love you, George,' he hears, and this time it's real, all of it. He's not scared of missing a word now.

**Author's Note:**

> A semi-realistic minecraft AU. 
> 
> If I de-anon this, I'll connect it to my main writing account here.
> 
> -1050


End file.
